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Huntrix had a lot less scars than one would assume from demon hunters. Zoey and Rumi had the normal sort, of course, from scraped knees and stupid accidents. The sort you get when your childhood is active and happy. Mira had scars as well, though being the child of an elite family left little room for scraped knees, it had plenty for the welts on her back. As she aged, she made space for more scars, knuckles and lips split in fights, and thin ones that looked like ladder rungs on her thighs.
But the scars you might assume they had, scratches and bites, were healed to invisibility in weeks. Even the worst wounds, the ones treated with Zoey’s rapid yet precise stitches on the bathroom floor, had no trace left after a few months. It was one of the gifts the Honmoon offered to its protectors, rapid healing of injuries caused by demon teeth, claws or spikes.
They had been lucky so far, that the other scars they’d gained in fights were so easily hidden. The studio had required Zoey to wear makeup over one small scar on her cheek, caused by a piece of rubble broken off a building during a fight, until it was faded enough the camera couldn’t pick it up. Mira had a rough knotted battle scar on the back of her shoulder from a demon who had wielded a makeshift spear, easy enough to cover with clothes. Neither of the other girls were sure what scars Rumi had earned in fights. She threw herself in front of the others often enough they knew she had some, but Rumi was stubborn, much more likely to try and walk off a severe injury than submit herself to Zoey’s medical “expertise”.
There was one type of scar only hunters bore at all, those caused by Honmoon weapons. The Honmoon healed the injuries as well as demon caused ones, but left a small reminder. Not a scar in the physical sense, but a break in the soul where the injury had lay. A reminder, that the power of the hunters is not to be turned against each other. Each of the girls had a handful of these from their early days of training. Mira’s were mostly on her shins, she had mended many pairs of pants before she learned to control the strength of her swings. Zoey had them dotted on her palms, reminders to hold her shin-kal lightly, and not to play catch with them. Rumi’s were on her arms, from a time before she met her fellow hunters, when she trained with a sword too large for her to hold properly.
“We were told there would be three rooms reserved under the name Park Celine.” Mira snapped at the desk clerk. At eighteen, her anger still boiled just beneath the surface of every interaction.
“Yes, and we have no reservations under that name. Not in the Sunlight Entertainment group, or anywhere else.” The clerk repeated firmly.
Rumi stepped up to the desk, blocking Mira from escalating further and putting on the professional smile she’d copied from her guardian and mentor, “I understand that there has been some mix- up in the rooms.”
Mira snorted but Rumi continued, voice gentle and eyes a little wide. “Are there any rooms still available? Our label is hosting all the performers for the award show here and we really need to stay so we can attend meetings and the like. You would be such a life saver if you found one or two.”
The clerk sighed heavily but typed something into the computer in front of them. They grunted once and double clicked on something, “We don't have any luxury rooms left, but I can get you a double queen for the next three nights if that will work?”
Mira groaned but Rumi nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, that's perfect. Thank you so much.”
She pulled out Celine's business credit card to pay for the room and got the room key card. When Rumi turned back, Mira was standing with both of their suitcases in her arms. Zoey was fighting with her three bags, a suitcase that matched the other girls’, a backpack with some American cartoon character on it, and a book bag overflowing with stuffed toys.
Rumi grabbed Zoey’s suitcase and giggled at her before reading out the room number, “621”.
Upon opening the door to the hotel room, the girls were overtaken by the scent of cheap air freshener. Mira's nose wrinkled in distaste but Zoey ran straight in, flopping down onto one of the beds.
“I'm taking this one!” She announced, before sitting up to look at them “You two can share the other. I need room for all my friends.”
Rumi rolled her eyes at their youngest member. Zoey may have been seventeen but sometimes Rumi swore she was still seven. Mira didn’t even bother giving her a reaction, instead she opened all three suitcases and took out their outfits for the meeting the next day. Anxiety bubbled in the space between the girls at the reminder.
“We got this,” Rumi argued with the unspoken thoughts, “It’s not like it's our debut. It’s one song”
“On international TV.” Mira added sardonically as she hung up the outfits.
Rumi nodded, “Yes, we need the fans. Celine can only do so much to help us grow. If we are gonna turn the Honmoon gold we need to be globally famous.”
Zoey groaned softly at Rumi’s words, “Can we talk about something other than work for five minutes?”
“Like what, turtles?” Mira asked, punctuating the statement by shoving her suitcase under the bed.
The sarcasm flew right over Zoey’s head at the opportunity to talk about turtles. “Did you know some sea turtles can live for more than a hundred years? They can hold their breaths underwater for up to five hours! And they never even meet their parents. They hatch all alone on the beach and have to crawl all the way to the ocean.”
Her eyes filled with sympathetic tears as she rambled her sea turtle facts at her bandmates, her friends, who had heard it all before. The sun was dipping beneath the horizon by the time she finished her spiel. Mira and Rumi had settled onto the other bed while Zoey very much ignored her own luggage and talked.
Mira turned on a lamp when the room started to darken and the girls changed into their pajamas. Mira and Zoey didn’t bother with attempts at privacy, stripping their clothes off as they talked and shrugging on the long tees they slept in.
“That's my shirt.” Mira observed easily.
“Oh,” Zoey looked down at the penguin shirt she had pulled out of her backpack without looking, “I guess it is.”
“I’ll be right back” Rumi interrupted, voice tight as she closed herself in the bathroom with her clothes.
“I thought she’d start relaxing more once we got away from the compound.” Zoey spoke quietly not wanting to be overheard.
Mira responded, her voice equally soft, “She has. She wears those off the shoulder shirts now that Celine’s not always hovering. She grew up there, Zoey, it’s gonna take her longer to get used to the rest of the world.”
Zoey shrugged as the bathroom door opened and Rumi came back out. Her face was flushed and slightly damp, she was wearing a plain white, long sleeved pajama shirt. Her legs were covered by silly, music note covered pants that Zoey had gifted for Christmas. Zoey glanced at the long sleeves before looking at Mira pointedly. They had both noticed her half sleeves turning into full ones. The way her right arm had started always being covered when they debuted.
They had brought it up to Celine but she had reassured them that Rumi was alright, that she’d have seen anything concerning in their monthly physicals. The reassurance had allowed them to put off the conversion this far, but the longer that it went with no glimpse of her arm, the more they needed to hear it from Rumi.
“You never wear the shirt from that set anymore.” Zoey pouted lightly, ignoring Mira’s glare at her lack of subtlety.
Rumi’s face didn’t shift at all as she answered, “Yeah, I love it, I just get cold at night.”
The leader turned away to store her dirty clothes and Zoey raised an eyebrow at the blatant lie. Mira just shrugged. They had shared beds enough to know Rumi was basically a space heater and it was even worse at night. Celine had explained Rumi’s unusually high body temperature when Mira had run to her room panicked after joking around with a thermometer and discovering Rumi had a fever of 41 (106) degrees. She explained it as Rumi’s extra strong connection to the honmoon and gave the trio extra training when they asked more questions.
“Practice before bed?” Mira asked, already knowing how Rumi would answer.
“Of course!”
Nothing made that girl happier than singing. Not even training, and she used to wake up at four am for training, willingly.
At first all three girls sat up to practice their songs, but soon they ended up sprawled over one bed, giggling more than they sang. Zoey was laying back with her legs resting on Mira's lap and her head on Rumi’s stomach. The half-singing laughter made the hunters' souls begin to glow within them, the telltale shine noticeable on each other's skin.
Zoey squirmed slightly, twisting her head to look up at Rumi’s face, to see their leader genuinely enjoying herself. The movement pulled Rumi’s shirt up slightly, revealing a sliver of her stomach. It wasn't anything the girls hadn't seen before, Huntrix’s brand was practically built on crop tops, but from this angle Zoey noticed something that made her breath catch.
She sat up quickly, yanking Rumi’s shirt up further despite the older girl's confusion. It was hardly visible, clearly extremely old, but with the honmoon's glow it had stood out. A scar. But not just any, one caused by a honmoon weapon.
Zoey traced a finger over it gently, it ran from Rumi's left hip, under her belly button then up to just under her ribs.
“You didn't get that when we were training with you," Mira said bluntly.
Rumi looked down at the soul scar as the glow faded, making it once again invisible. Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked at the girls, “No, I've had that since I was small.”
“That’s from a honmoon weapon” Mira said, voice gaining a protective edge, “How did you get your stomach cut open by a honmoon weapon?”
Rumi shrugged, “I really don't know. I've asked Celine a couple times when I was younger but she got that look in her eyes and never answered”
“That look?” Zoey asked, finally putting Rumi’s shirt back down but staying in her lap, “What look?”
Rumi's face dropped a bit, “The one she got when I asked about my mom or the Sunlight Sisters.”
“So, like, do you think it has to do with your mom? Or maybe their third? Yuna, right?” Zoey kept asking questions even as Rumi tried to shrug her off.
“I'll try asking again when we get back to the compound, ok?” She offered weakly.
Mira nodded, “Kids don't end up with wounds like that on accident, Ru. You deserve a real answer.”
A week later, the girls were back at the compound. They hadn’t won anything at the award show, but they hadn't expected to anyway. It had only been six months since they debuted, they couldn't expect miracles, at least no more miracles than the honmoon already offered. Instant fame was not one of those.
It was late, the dim moonlight filtered in through the blinds of the living room. Rumi shouldn't have been awake, let alone out of bed. Old rules from her childhood echoed in her ears as she approached Celine's door.
No matter what you hear, stay in your room until the sun rises.
If I'm not home in the morning, get a boiled egg and start your homework.
When you feel the wards, stay away from the windows.
If you feel the wards break, run Rumi. Run to the hunters tree, the demons can't get you there.
Don't come in my room, not ever little tiger.
For the second time in her life, Rumi was preparing to break that final rule. The first time she had been ten, still small with patterns that hadn’t even reached her shoulders yet. Just like that afternoon, Rumi raised her fist and let it knock on the door. She froze there, listening to the soft sound of Celine moving in her room. The two trained hunters knew how to move nearly silently, but also how to listen to the noises that were left.
The door squeaked open, revealing her guardian in her pajamas. It was odd to see Celine with her hair loose and in soft clothes. Rumi couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Celine so relaxed, sometime before the training started, surely. When they had been a family, more than a mentor and student.
“Do you need something, Rumi?” Celine’s voice was soft with sleep as she looked at Rumi standing in her doorway for the first time since she was a toddler and Celine had forbidden her from coming to her room anymore.
Rumi shook her head automatically before nodding, stuttering out something that could, theoretically, be called a sentence. “ I, uh, well. I had a question?”
Celine raised an eyebrow at the purple-haired teen, “And you needed to ask it in the middle of the night?”
“Uh, no, I guess.” Rumi cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, “Sorry, I’ll ask tomorrow."
Rumi turned to leave but Celine spoke up before she could. “No, I’m already awake. Clearly this is weighing on you. Come in.”
She kept her own tone even as she watched the anxious girl, now a woman, turn back to her. Celine had always known this night would come. Rumi had reached the age where childhood questions stopped being satisfied by gentle smiles and changed subjects. Sooner or later she'd ask about her mother. About the Sunlight Sisters. About the things Celine had never found the strength to explain.
Celine sat on the edge of her bed and patted the spot next to her, “Sit, Rumi”
She obeyed without pause, settling on the edge with her body tense. Celine, even now, could read her girl like an open book.
“Do you remember when you used to sleep in here with me?” Celine asked, eyes staring at the dark of her room.
She couldn’t see Rumi shake her head but she felt it from the way her hair brushed against Celine’s shoulder. “I’m not surprised, you were pretty young then. Two or maybe three at the oldest.”
“I remember you telling me I wasn’t allowed in your room anymore, I remember being confused about it.” Rumi said simply, her tone was soft, yet to Celine it still felt accusatory.
“You were getting older.” she explained, “You started asking questions about where I went at night, why I came home hurt. I didn’t want to scare you or make you watch me patch myself up once you were old enough to understand I was hurt.”
Rumi shifted slightly on the bed, turning to look at Celine, but Celine kept her eyes locked on the darkness.
“I know you have questions about your mom. About your birth and how she died” Celine finally said.
Rumi sighed, “No, I mean, I got the story basically. Mi-yeong got pregnant by a demon, you held her hand as I was born, she died of blood loss, you raised me. My question is actually about my scar.” Her hand drifted to her hip, laying on top of the invisible soul scar.
Celine froze for a moment, the mention of Rumi’s oldest scar filling her with the same dread and fear it always did.
“I…” For the first time, Celine found herself stuttering, “Well, um, that's actually sort of the same story really.”
She took a breath, and glanced at Rumi’s confused face. “There’s a lot about your birth you don’t know, Tiger. I just thought, maybe it was a story better left untold.”
“Tell me, Celine.” Rumi said, “Please.”
When Celine glanced at her girl again, she saw the stubborn set of her jaw, so much like her mothers, and knew she had to tell the truth. The whole truth, but she didn’t know if she could without breaking.
Your faults and fears must never be seen, Celine. You can not allow your grief to cloud your duty.
The words of her own mentors echoed in her ears as Celine set her jaw and stared back into the darkness.
“When Mi-yeong was giving birth, I wasn’t the only one by her side. Our third, Yuna, was holding her other hand just as firmly as I was. “
Rumi let out a small gasp and Celine knew why, she could count one hand the number of times she said Mi-yeong’s name to Rumi. She had never spoken Yuna’s name, at least, not while the child had been old enough to remember.
“You were born, and the moment you cried for the first time, we knew you would be a hunter. Your cry rang through the honeymoon stronger than anything we had ever felt. At the time, Yuna and I didn’t know who, or what, your father was. We were just certain you had been born to finally create the Golden Honmoon. Even at only a few hours old, you could see the honmoon, you’d grasp for its strings and giggle when it wrapped around you. I’ve never seen another baby hunter, maybe the honmoon’s like that with all of them, but it loved you. We loved you.
We knew it wasn’t going to be easy, three young women raising a baby together, let alone raising a hunter, but for those first nine days, we were a family.
Even as Yuna and I did our best to help Mi-yeong take care of you, we were still hunters. The honmoon was very weak in those days. The drama of the pregnancy caused huge rifts with the fans and as a result we were having multiple breaches per day. Yuna and I took turns staying back with Mi-yeong when we could. She wasn’t doing well after you were born, even when the bleeding stopped she was very weak.
One day, when you were nine days old, we woke up to the honmoon calling us to a huge tear. There was no way either of us could do it alone. We went out to fight and part way through we felt another tear opening. In the adrenaline of the fight we didn’t realize where it had opened. We almost had the big tear sealed when the honmoon screamed.
It… it was the most fear I had ever felt from it. Not even in our most grievous injuries had the honmoon called us that strongly. Yuna and I ran as fast as we could to get back to Mi-yeong and you. We were a few miles away when we felt Mi-yeong die. “
Celine paused for a moment, fists clenched tight. She could still feel the moment a third of her soul had been ripped from her, the ice in her veins, the shards of glass in her lungs. To lose a soul bound was a grief unimaginable to those who never felt the connection.
But Rumi had, Rumi felt it everyday so she grabbed Celine’s hand.
“For years, I’ve wondered if it would have been different if I stayed back that day. If I was a little faster getting back to her.
When we walked in the door of our apartment, she was there. The door was covered in scratches from demons. Mi-yeong died fighting, died the hunter she was, protecting an innocent from demons. You were safe in your bassinet, the honmoon wrapped around you like a swaddle.
We took you and fled the city. Yuna suggested we bring you here to the compound. The wards here are strong, you would be safe, even when we had to fight. I bribed a doctor to declare Mi-yeong’s official cause of death as complications from birth and threatened our label at the time till they offered up lawyers to fight for you.
It was an uphill fight to get the courts to give custody to an unmarried twenty-two year old. Back then they wouldn’t even allow two women to have custody together. It took six weeks for guardianship to be issued to me. Yuna and I were scared everyday of those six weeks that they’d take you, adopt you off to some family who wouldn’t have known that you were special. You weren’t even two months old yet, but we had become your parents. In those days, this place wasn’t meant for that. It was built as a training ground, not a family home. We renovated the hanok, built you a nursery, bought you toys, diapers and formula. She called me your Auntie Cece, I called her your Auntie Yuna.
We were supposed to be a family.
A family missing a very important piece, sure, but a family none the less.”
Celine could feel Rumi stiffing beside her. Rumi had always been smart, she knew something had to have happened with Yuna for her to have been so thoroughly erased from their lives. Briefly, Celine wondered if Rumi would realize why she always insisted on Rumi calling her by her full name.
“You woke up crying one night, you were maybe three months old. Time got really fuzzy then, sleepless nights and grief will do that. It was Yuna's night to handle feedings and changings so I tried to go back to sleep, till I felt the honmoon pulling me to your nursery.”
Celine trailed off, not sure how to put what she saw that night into words.
“It was dark,” she started simply, “ Yuna hadn’t turned on the lamp. The only source of light was the glow from her dagger, and a purple glow from your crib. It took a long time for me to process what I was seeing. I called out to Yuna, trying to figure out what was going on. She turned her face to me and I saw three things. Her dagger pointed straight at you in your crib. The little birthmark on your arm glowing like demon patterns. And the tears rolling down Yuna’s face. She was sobbing, Rumi”
Celine didn’t know why it was so important to her that Rumi understood that.
“She kept saying, over and over, ‘It’s a demon, it's not her, it’s a demon’ And I understood why she was saying that but she was wrong. You had patterns, but the honmoon was protecting you. I knew you were a hunter. I tried to tell her. I told her we had to listen to the honmoon. That I’d research it but I knew her body better than my own. I saw the moment she made her choice.”
Celine broke off, looking at Rumi’s eyes for the first time since she started talking, “She wasn’t bad, Rumi. She wasn’t. She was scared, she saw patterns and she thought she was protecting me.”
“Celine?” Rumi asked softly.
“I tackled her. I didn’t hesitate but I was across the room and her blade was centimeters away from you. I heard the sizzle of a demon being cut and the scream of an infant in pain at the same time. I fought her. I did whatever I could to get her out of your room. All three of us left that night with soul scars. The honmoon wept as we fought, its power isn’t meant to be used against its hunters.
We were supposed to be sisters in soul if not blood.
When I had her disarmed on the ground, I had to make a choice as well. I told her to leave, that if I ever saw her near you again I wouldn’t be merciful again.”
Celine took a deep breath, “When I got back to you the honmoon had already healed your wound physically but you were covered in blood. To this day I don't know how much of it was yours and how much was ours. I washed you up and we slept together until you got old enough to start being worried when I came home hurt.”
Rumi let out a rough, jerky breath. She thought for a moment before curiosity got the better of her, “What happened to Yuna? Where is she now?”
That was the question that broke Celine’s composure, she knew she’d have to tell Rumi one day but she didn’t even know how to make her mouth form the words. Tears had been dripping unnoticed on her face the whole time she’d been talking but now she was truly sobbing.
Rumi wrapped her arms around her guardian and murmured softly to her, “You don’t have to answer, it's ok.”
Your faults and fears must never be seen, Celine. You must be better than your feelings.
The memory of her mentor's words killed the sobs in her chest. “Yes, I do.” Celine whispered.
“Ten years.” It was the only clear thought. “For ten years, I could feel her soul as she traveled the world. I felt her joy, I cried her tears without knowing why, I felt her fear every single night. I knew when she arrived back in Korea. I felt when her grief overtook her and she lost the last of herself.”
She forced another breath through her tightening lungs, “The wards woke me late one night. She was back on the property, coming for the window of your nursery, your bedroom. I confronted her, I told her to leave again. I tried.”
Celine looked at Rumi with pleading eyes, pleading for her to believe that Celine tried.
“She wouldn’t listen to reason. I…. I had to…”
And suddenly Celine wasn’t safe on her bed with her child’s arms wrapped around her. Suddenly, she was standing outside her baby girl’s room with her scythe drawn. She was looking in the eyes of one of the women she was supposed to love forever.
Her voice was still as clear as it had been a decade before, “Please, Cece. Trust me.”
Celine’s voice came from her mouth without any control, “I won’t let you hurt Rumi.”
“That's not Rumi! Rumi died with Mimi, it's a demon trying to use you to destroy the honmoon. Please, once it’s dead you’ll see.”
“Don’t make me do this, Yu.” Celine’s voice cracked with a grief she had no right to.
Then Celine was on her bed again, blinking rapidly, “I buried her in the graveyard next to Mi-yeong. I probably shouldn’t have but I still put her ribbon in the tree. I came back in and checked on you. The fight didn’t even wake you. I don’t remember much after I went back to my room and noticed my pajamas were soaked in her blood.”
But Rumi didn’t need Celine to remember what happened next. Rumi did. As soon as Celine mentioned the bloody pajamas, Rumi knew the day she was talking about.
Rumi had been ten, she woke up and before she even got out of bed she knew that Celine wasn't home. The honmoon was buzzing, busy and worried, the way it always was when Celine was out. It didn't scare Rumi, not anymore, she knew what to do until her mother mentor came back. She went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face before changing out of her pajamas.
She hiked up to the Hunter’s Tree for her morning meditation. Usually she would meditate until Celine came out to lead her in yoga, but on days like this, she just meditated until she got bored. After doing her morning stretches, she went back into the house. Celine always kept a few boiled eggs and some fruit for the mornings where she couldn't cook, so Rumi grabbed her breakfast and started her studies.
As lunch time came and went, Rumi started to get concerned. The honmoon hadn't relaxed for even a moment during the morning, the buzzing didn't increase but it definitely didn't decrease either. She tried to eat some rice and vegetables but the food caught on the knot of anxiety in her throat. She found herself briefly wondering if maybe the honmoon was trying to tell her that Celine wasn't coming home.
As soon as she had thought she felt the honmoon tug her towards the hallway where the bedrooms were. She followed the impulse, walking down the hall until the honmoon encouraged her to stop in front of Celine’s door. The ten-year-old stood outside her guardian’s door and watched the honmoon’s glow brighten. Through the door, Rumi heard soft shuffling footsteps and relaxed slightly with the knowledge that Celine was home.
Celine had forbidden her from coming into her bedroom, but had also taught Rumi to trust and listen to the honmoon. She raised one, small fist and lightly tapped on the door. The shuffling noise remained consistent as Rumi waited for a response.
“Celine?” She asked softly, knocking a little harder a second time.
There was still no response from behind the door but the honmoon flared brighter.
“Can I come in? I think the honmoon wants me to.” Rumi knocked again and let out a sigh before cracking open the door.
Celine’s room was dimly lit by the sunlight peeking through her closed curtains, but even in the dim light Rumi could see enough to freeze in shock. Celine was pacing back and forth beside her bed, not reacting to Rumi’s entrance. Her hands were tangled in her hair, her face was smeared with brown dried blood and dirt, and her pajamas were soaked through with bright red blood.
When Rumi slipped further in, she could see Celine’s eyes were glazed over and unfocused. She didn't have any visible injuries, but that didn’t stop the bile from crawling up Rumi’s throat. It rose until it settled into the back of her throat as a hard knot. Rumi was only a child but she had already seen enough of her mentor's wounds to know when Celine was in pain. She walked further into the room, stopping directly in Celine’s path.
“Celine?” Rumi asked again, but Celine’s eyes didn't drop down to her face. Her eyes didn’t move at all. She did pause in her pacing though, stopping before she walked over the child in her path.
“Are… did you get hurt?” Rumi asked, getting more and more confused when Celine still doesn’t respond.
One small, plain hand reached up to brush against the bloody, filthy cheek. There was still no response from Celine and the hard knot in Rumi’s throat grew further until air could barely pass through it.
She can hear the way her breath catches. High pitch wheezes forced their way out and tears started to blur her vision. Rumi started to shake before Celine unwrapped one arm from around herself and mirrored Rumi’s motion. The hand on her cheek grounded Rumi enough for her thoughts to narrow.
She needed to help. She was supposed to know what to do. She did know, when she took the time to think it through. She had been learning basic first aid since she was old enough to remember.
Wash the wounds and check their color
She hummed the small tune Celine had used when she was small.
“Okay, okay,” Rumi nodded, “We have to wash you up first, check if you’re still bleeding.”
Rumi grabbed the hand that was resting on her cheek and let a small breath of relief go when Celine followed easily. She pulled the woman into the open bathroom door and turned on the sink. Steam floated into the air as Rumi searched the cabinets, finding the first aid supplies and a wash cloth.
Rumi started small, bringing the dripping cloth up as far as she could, wiping the brown blood off Celine’s forehead. The liquid dripped off the cloth, drops of it landing above her eyes. Celine flinched when one landed in her eye and Rumi muttered vague apologies as she continued. This time a little more careful to keep the liquid out of Celine’s eyes. When her face was clean, Rumi touched her chin softly, Celine allowed it as Rumi tilted her head side to side. Rumi’s eyes searched Celine’s exposed skin for any sign of injury. Celine’s face was unblemished.
“Ok,” Rumi muttered, confusion edging her tone. ”Umm, I should check under your clothes too.”
Rumi tugged slightly on her shirt, but Celine didn’t respond. Rumi pushed herself up onto her toes and pulled the soaking shirt off Celine. Underneath, her brown skin is streaked with damp red until Rumi wipes that away, once again revealing that the skin is undamaged. Once Rumi had fully washed Celine, finding nothing that would explain the amount of blood, only a few small scratches on her left shoulder, she re-dressed Celine in clean, soft clothes.
Throughout the process, Celine didn’t react other than following along with Rumi’s motions. Rumi held her hand and walked her out into the living room. When Rumi held a glass out to Celine, the woman took it, gulping down the cool liquid as quickly as she could. Celine drank the second glass slower, eyes clearing a little from the cold.
Celine looked… tired, Rumi thought. Tired in a way Rumi had never seen. Despite the years of maintaining the honmoon alone, Celine had never looked this… exhausted.
“Sleep” Rumi muttered, pushing Celine's arm until she laid down on the couch. Surprising Rumi, Celine’s arms came out in a motion she hadn’t seen in years. It meant, lay with me. It meant, let me hold you. It meant, my arms are big and you are small. For the first time since Rumi was small, since she started feeling her patterns grow, since she learned what they meant, she allowed herself to be held.
She dozed off there, surrounded by Celine’s arms, warm and safe. When she woke, it was to the feeling of a hook pulling under her ribs. An urgent pull of the honmoon calling its hunters. She could read the feeling, had been since she was young, it was calling Celine to a breach about a kilometer and a half away.
Rumi expected Celine to jump up, pull her weapon and run out the door, the way she always had when this feeling came over them. Instead, Celine’s arms just tighten around Rumi.
“You have to go, Celine” Rumi wiggled out from under the strong, soft arms as the honmoon pulled harder. Rumi tried to shake Celine awake and she opened her eyes but they were still cloudy and unfocused.
The honmoon pulled again, urgent, desperate. Rumi was a Hunter, she had pulled her sword four years before, technically it was her duty as much as it was Celine’s. So, despite her shaking arms, Rumi reached into the honmoon and pulled out her saingeom. When the weapon formed in Rumi’s hand, almost too small to hold the adult size sword, Celine’s eyes instantly cleared.
Celine left with no conversation, just up and out the door before Rumi can make another move. Twenty minutes later, she walked back in the house and began to cook dinner.
Neither mentioned that day again for eight years. Celine could never explain what had caused her state/ Rumi was terrified that if she brought it up, Celine would disappear back inside herself.
At eighteen, Rumi finally gets an answer for that day.
And, when at 24 she kneels in front of her mentor and begs Celine to take her life, she knows she’s not just asking a demon hunter, but someone who had also killed a hunter.
It still surprises Rumi when Celine refuses to do her duty. When she casts aside Rumi’s sword and holds her daughter instead.